Henge
by Lady Kementari
Summary: Sometimes the only way you can survive is if you pretend. Not worksafe, fairly explicit smut.


She could tell he was a shinobi as soon as he walked through the door. Even though he wasn't clad in the standard uniform and was not wearing a hitai'ate, she knew. When you worked as long as she in her profession, you didn't need uniforms to tell you who people were. It was the way that he moved, a sort of careless grace as if his feet weren't quite touching the floor. The old, silvery scar peeking from under a soft blue piece of cloth that covered his eye, and the one that scored his upper arm, pink and raw, merely strengthened her assumptions. He looked about 25, but she figured that he was really 18, maybe even 16; ninjas always looked older than they really were.

"Ah shinobi-san." She murmured, bowing low, "Welcome to the House of Blossoms. Is there anything that you're looking for in particular?"

If he felt any surprise in her guessing his profession, then he did not show it, that odd mask covering the bottom half of his face certainly did not help her read his expression.

"Do you have any men?" His voice was low, smooth.

She inclined her head. "Yes, we do. Follow me." She walked down a series of twisting hallways. She had to look back several times to make sure he was still following her, because she couldn't hear his movements.

She opened the door and waved him in, "Here, shinobi-san, are our available workers." There was an almost undetectable ripple from the assembled young men. The title of "shinobi-san" was a warning.

He slowly surveyed the room, eyes sliding from a few of the smoldering glances thrown his way.

"Do you have any blonds, Mama-san?" he asked, looking to the owner.

"None available. Both are currently tied up."

Nodding silently, he continued looking. Finally he pointed to one young man in the corner.

"Ah, excellent choice." The owner said quietly, and beckoned the young man over. Cautiously he made his way over, bright blue eyes surreptitiously looking over the other man.

"It's 150 an hour, and 275 for two." The woman said, tacking on an extra fifty to the price. Shinobi were usually hard on her whores.

He nodded silently, handing her over a neat stack of bills. She took them deftly counting them before nodded. "Take him to your usual room." The young man nodded, bowing to Kakashi before murmuring, "If you would follow me, Shinobi-san."

A couple hallways later, they were in a softly lit room. A large futon in the middle over took up most the room, but there was a couple of chair draped with scarves off to side, and small chest near the head of the futon.

"What would you like me to do, Shinobi-san?" the young man murmured, kneeling next to the other man, who was sitting on the futon. His yukata was barely open at the front, showing a teasing amount of pale, silky skin.

He turned to the young man, trying to lose himself in those blue eyes. "I would like you to undress me. And call me by my name. It's Kakashi." He said quietly.

"Very well, Kakashi." The young man murmured, pulling out the syllables of the name. "I can do that." Leaning forward, he started from the top and worked his way down.

First came the piece of soft blue cloth. If the young man was disturbed the scar that bisected Kakashi's eye, he did not show it. Second came the mask, graceful fingers brushing against thin lips.

"Why hide such a beautiful face?" He murmured, and Kakashi said nothing, eyes flicking to the ground.

The shirt was next, and this time the other could not hold back his quiet gasp at Kakashi's scars. His hands fluttered down the scored torso, lingering over a particularly spectacular one that ran from mid-sternum to hip.

The pants came last, and the young man unzipped them with excruciating slowness, the sound seeming to echo in the quiet room. The sharp sound was soon replaced by quiet rustling as he pulled the pants down Kakashi's legs. His hand immediately slipped between Kakashi's thighs, fingers dancing on smooth skin, but Kakashi stopped him before he could touch his half-hardened cock.

"Before we continue I want to ask you two things. One, will you let me cast a jutsu on you? It's completely harmless, and won't hurt you. And two…will you fuck me?"

The young man was taken aback, customers hardly ever asked him to fuck them, and he was more than a little wary about this whole jutsu thing.

"I'll pay you an extra 100." Kakashi offered when he saw doubt clouding those clear blue eyes, "Just…please." He hated how pathetic he sounded right now.

Slowly the young man nodded. Money was money, right? And this man, this dangerous, deadly man sounded…quietly desperate.

"Alright." He blinked, and watched, almost hypnotized as Kakashi's hands deftly sped through a series of seals, while that low voice muttered something he couldn't quite pick up. All he felt was an odd tingling sensation, and shivered a little. It seemed this ninja was done with whatever it was that he wanted. Time to get to business.

"Mmm, Kakashi." He said, remembering the name, "Are you ready for me now?" He undid the sash of his yukata, sliding out of the garment.

"Ohh…" Kakashi moaned, "I am." The young man was surprised by the sudden change in demeanor. This ninja seemed so much younger now, vulnerable, even. Before he could stop himself he asked, "How old are you?"

"Sixteen." Came the response, and it was all the other could do to keep silent and hide his surprise. This ninja was ifour/i years iyounger/i than him. He would have guessed he was in his late twenties. He pushed all of that to the back of his mind; he was sure his client did not want to talk about his age.

Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the middle of Kakashi's chest, tongue sliding over to bite down on a nipple. Skilled fingers ran up and down the scarred torso sensing the tremors that emanated from that tense body. His tongue traced a slick path from Kakashi's chest, down to his belly, briefly dipping into the other man's navel.

Kakashi's quiet panting could be barely heard over the crisp rustling of the sheets. The young man licked even lower, finally running his tongue over Kakashi's straining erection, his right hand reaching down to caress and fondle the other man's balls. With the ease of lots of practice he simultaneously reached over to the chest with his left hand, and grabbed the tube of the lube. Flipping open the tube, he slicked a couple fingers, and pressed one in.

Kakashi's pants had turned into low moans now, body arching as he was stretched. The whore pressed another finger in, and curled them inside and Kakashi gasped out a name that he couldn't quite catch. He curled them once more before pulling them out. Working quickly he slicked his own cock, hissing at the feeling of cold lube on his heated skin. Sliding a hand under a pale thigh, he hooked Kakashi's knee over a shoulder, lined himself up and slowly pushed in.

Kakashi's cry seemed to echo throughout the room, body bowing back. He looked up, staring up at the man before him. He was all warm skin, clear blue eyes, soft blond hair, spiked, strands clinging to a flushed face through a fine sheen of sweat.

For a moment Kakashi forgot and believed.


End file.
